


If it Ain't Love

by It_MightBe_Love



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Groping, Humor, Mentions of Cancer, Organized Crime, Rio is kind of a dick, Sexual Tension, mentions of children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/It_MightBe_Love/pseuds/It_MightBe_Love
Summary: Rio shifts and brackets her against the counter. They're of a height, but where Beth is a stay at home mom whose most physically demanding activity is the yoga calisthenics she tries to squeeze in twice a week, Rio is tightly chorded muscle.The gun at his hip digs into her stomach a little and he is.He is really very close.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally unbeta'd and only loosely edited for typographical errors. Because I'm lazy as fuck. There should be a tag 'Rio is kind of a dick' so I'm making it a tag. Because reasons, but also, can we talk about the whole Dean, fake cancer storyline? And how that's going to bite someone in the ass.
> 
> Also my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE TROPE EVER IS THE FAKE/PRETEND RELATIONSHIP AND THIS SHOW HAS GIVEN IT TO ME. now I just... like. Need them to really do the do. Probably.
> 
> I suspect Rio gets a kick out of flustering Beth.

"Why do you let him stick around if you ain't in love with him."

It isn't a question, it lacks a very distinctive inflection at the end, and the only person Beth knows who speaks like that is Rio.

She really needs to have a conversation with the man about this propensity of his for turning up in broad daylight.

Half the block thinks she's having an affair, hell the goddamn FBI thinks it too, and a year ago this would have bothered her.

A year ago however she wasn't working for questionably immoral gangsters, being questioned by presumptuous FBI agents, laundering money, or living with the reality of her philandering husband.

She's been quiet too long and rather than rejoining with something witty, she turns and props a hip against the counter and holds out a sponge, "If you're going to turn up this constantly, you're going to help me clean. I have four kids. Five if you count Dean and 'suburban housewife' isn't actually a misnomer for 'sits on my backside all day doing nothing'."

She'll be impressed by the steadiness of her voice later.

The sponge drips on the tile floor and Beth isn't sure what looks better. How clean her kitchen floor is (she cleaned that first this morning after dropping the kids at school), or the poleaxed look on Rio's face.

He plucks the sponge from her outstretched hand and sidles toward the counter. He leads with his hips in a way that should probably be illegal and which Beth suspects has nothing to do with the gun he has holstered at his hip.

He slants a sly grin at her and says, "You don't strike me as the suburban housewife type," before plunging his hands into the sudsy water in the sink, "Why are you doing this by hand if you have a fancy ass dishwasher anyway."

Somewhere, Annie is having an aneurysm for reasons she's unsure of. In the Boland kitchen, Beth is washing dishes with a wanted criminal.

Her life is very strange, she sniffs and rinses what he's scrubbing clean and says, "This conserves water, and it's therapeutic."

Rio's silence is judgmental enough without the flat stare she can feel him leveling at her profile. She ignores him in favor of settling the plate in her hand, on the dish rack to her right.

"Dean sticks around because I have a reputation and if the neighborhood association caught wind that I kicked him out when he was fighting cancer, I'd lose my spot on the HOA Board, and my daughter would be ostracized from her play group."

Rio's eyes narrow, "Is he going to be a problem."

Again, it isn't a question. Beth wants to say no, Dean is an idiot and not terribly observant; but he's also attempting to woo his way back into her bed and everytime she thinks about it her nose wrinkles.

That he's lying to her on top of it-- "No, and if he becomes one I'll take care of it."

Rio shifts and brackets her against the counter. They're of a height, but where Beth is a stay at home mom whose most physically demanding activity is the yoga calisthenics she tries to squeeze in twice a week, Rio is tightly chorded muscle.

The gun at his hip digs into her stomach a little and he is.

He is really very close.

Beth can feel her heart trying to jackrabbit its way out of her chest and the breath she draws in is shaky.

"Yeah, and how do you plan to do that," he tips his head toward the sink, "Distract him with dish therapy," he curls a hand around her hip, "Flash a smile at him, don't pay any mind to the man behind the curtain sweetheart-"

Beth swallows. For want of anywhere else to put the, she lets her palms curl over the edge of the counter, fingers tucked up beneath it. The stone is cool beneath her touch and a little tacky from drying dish soap. 

"He's lying to me about being sick--" she isn't stupid and once she'd actually thought back on his answer about his treatment plan she'd gotten curious, that he also doesn't think to clear his browser history is another point against him. They have a preteen son with a computer and internet connection in his room.

She regularly checks to make sure he hasn't gotten around the net nanny blocks. 

\--and who even googles 'why do people fake cancer' anyhow.

"...meanwhile, half my block thinks I'm having an affair with you. Isn't that what you wanted to check on? Agent Turner seemed convinced," Rio is a sturdy wall of heat all down her front, and Beth is becoming acutely aware that she's wearing her cleaning clothes.

An old sweatshirt that she thinks might have been Dean's back from his college days, and a pair of yoga shorts that she wouldn't be caught dead wearing out of the house. Her hair is gathered in the sort of sloppy bun that happens after spending an hour scrubbing the floor and she hasn't shaved her legs in a week.

"Nah, I just like checking in personal like on my investments." 

Which would be insulting coming from anyone not currently wedging a knee between her thighs and Beth feels a sudden swoop of heat drop straight down her spine to take up residence in her pelvis. 

"Well you've checked in. We are all checked. I should let you get back to your regularly scheduled uh... checking in of things. Investments. Business opportunities. People. You must be a very busy man with all the," she's babbling.

God fucking preserve her, she's babbling and Rio is letting her. His knee shifts and her hips tilt forward of their own volition and he smirks like he's won something.

Probably she should try and set some sort of boundaries. She works for him, she doesn't know if working for him should include sex. But then; it has been a while.

He slides a hand up beneath the ratty hem of her sweatshirt, "Anyone ever tell you you talk a whole lot about nothing real important."

"Anyone ever tell you that questions should be inflected properly at the end so they sound like questions and not statements?" Her voice is high at the end, Rio's hand has curved around her back and up her spine. Rough fingers rubbing at the tender space between her shoulder blades and beneath the clasp of her bra.

Everytime he tugs at it she can feel her chest constrict and god help her if it isn't the single hottest, lewdest thing she's ever experienced.

Dean was the first (and incidentally has been the only) man she has ever had sex with. She's beginning to think this was an oversight on her part because Rio is dipping his mouth toward the exposed skin of her collarbone and unclasping her bra at the same time. She might be a little delirious or else she's having an hallucination brought on by cleaning chemicals.

Her spine bows toward him entirely of its own volition and Rio makes a sound in his throat like he's won something and sets his teeth to her throat like he's making a statement.

Beth is entirely willing to admit that the noise she makes is just this side of embarrassing, and later she'll consider it and then discard it in favor of recalling how his shoulders felt beneath her own palms.

When did that happen even, her hands rounding his biceps and clutching at him through the soft material of his shirt.

He hikes his knee up and let's her grind down against his thigh, sucks another bruise into her throat and cups her breasts in his hands. 

Her fingers spasm against his shoulders and she moans.

"Still waiting for an answer," it tumbles out of her mouth without her quite meaning to and Rio pauses, draws back. His pupils have dilated wide. Already dark eyes nearly eclipsed in black and his mouth is slick from where he's been biting her neck.

He says, "So am I," before drawing away and ambling out the kitchen door with one last considering look.

The door closes with nothing like finality and Beth's knees quake.

"Fuck." She reaches for her phone.


	2. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Beth seek advice from Annie, trauma is had and tequila is drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this delightful idea for interaction between Beth and Annie and then this happened. It's more plot than porn which will be rectified. Eventually. Again. This is so very loosely edited. I should see about getting a beta at some point probably.

"The _fuck_ Beth!"

Beth pulls a face and settles on Annie's couch.

"No. _Seriously_. The fuck! What do you mean-- are you. Are you on drugs?" Annie's voice had the remarkable capacity for reaching octaves previously heard only by dogs and possibly aliens on other planets.

"Is this your midlife crisis? I'd point out you're like. Barely old enough to be having one of them! You don't have teenagers yet! Wait five years. I can't have you--"

Beth lobbed a pillow at Annie's face, "Would you shut up and maybe help me out here!"

Annie bats the pillow away before it could strike her and then sat heavily beside Beth, "So when you say you two were--" she made a face. Brows drawing down, mouth twisting into a disgusted grimace, "Groping... or whatever. Was it like. Consensual? 'Cause I'm small but I'll kick his ass."

Beth pinches her. Violently and ignores Annie yelping and flinching away.

"If I didn't want him--"

"Getting all up in your mom junk?" She snorts and flails away before Beth can pinch her again.

"I wouldn't phrase it like that but," her nose wrinkles and she shrugs, "I guess?"

"You _guess_? Beth I am actually looking at the very real evidence dude did his best Dracula impression all over your neck. I mean. _Damn son_. I didn't think you were," she waves her hands vaguely, "You know. Into guys like uh. Him."

Beth buries her face in another throw pillow to stifle her groan, "I _know_. I know okay!"

They're both quiet for a long moment before Annie finally says, "Well. I think you should go for it."

"Annie!"

"No! No seriously hear me out. I'm totally not the person to come to to like. Tell you not to do the thing, previous evidence would suggest I am always for doing the thing. Every of the thing. And gangbanger friend is hot like the surface of the sun and judging by the indentations in your neck. He wants to put it to you bad." Annie does a thing where she shimmies on the couch cushion, like she's humping. Beth hits her with the pillow.

Annie yanks it from Beth's grip to thrust up against it while laughing, Beth can't stop herself from joining in at the sheer absurdity of it.

"When did our lives get so strange?" She asks after several long minutes of laughter.

Annie slides sideways on the couch to press her head against Beth's thigh, "I don't know."

They're both quiet for a long time, in his terrarium, Rex starts loudly gnashing on a lettuce leaf.

Annie sniffs, "But I do think you should go for it. Dean was boning the secretary. If we're going for the kink bingo trope card, you owe it to all of us to get your freak on with the hot ass tattooed crime boss."

"You don't think it's a little on the nose?"

Annie can see right up Beth's nose from this angle. Noses are weird as fuck.

"You mean sleeping with the broseph who pays us all a lot of money to do his dirty laundry?"

Beth closes her eyes and prays for some kind of strength, "Yeah."

Annie shrugs and gets her hair caught painfully under her shoulder, " _Maybe_? But I mean. We're already in it and it'd serve Dean right."

Beth swallows roughly, "I think he's lying about being sick."

Annie jerks upright, "What?"

"Dean. I...you know how I have net nanny on Kenny's computer?"

Annie narrows her eyes, "Yeah. How's _that_ working out for ya?"

"Shut up. It works. The point is that I don't think Kenny's the one whose been googling 'why do people fake cancer' and 'how to fake cancer symptoms." 

"Well," Annie shoves onto her feet, "We need tequila," she's already crossing the living room and yanking open a cupboard for glasses.

"Annie... what do I do?"

Annie pauses and swivels at the hip to level a serious look at her sister. It's such an unusual occurrence. Beth's always been the one more adept at handling the curveballs life threw their way. Hell, ever since that ill-fated meeting with Rio, Beth's been the one handling _him_. Ew.

Annie gags. She needs to not think of Beth and being handled ever again.

"You fuck him. Rio. Not Dean. Dean's got sad dad bod and liar-liar breath."

Beth flushes, "Do I just...?"

"Oh my god. I can't believe I'm talking you through hooking up with this guy." She forgoes glasses and instead grabs the bottle off the shelf and flings herself back at the couch, "First rule of hooking up is you need to not look desperate," her mouth crinkles, "This might be difficult for you since you're going on like four years of no dick."

Beth yanks the bottle from Annie's hand with a scowl, " _Not_ helpful."

"Your cellar is going to need some serious spring cleaning before you do this. I recommend a solid wax and something slinky. Nothing too slinky though. More like accidentally slutty."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Beth isn't sure why she's taking advice from her sister, "I was in ratty yoga shorts when he turned up last time."

This gives Annie pause, "...so maybe he has a mom kink?"

They both blanch and Annie shakes her head, "Right. So. Accidentally slutty underpants, and something he can get into easy, or. Oh oh no. No you need to wear those jeans Ruby got you for your birthday last year. Your but looks great in them and button flies are sexy as hell."

Beth swallows more than a mouthful of tequila. She's already regretting every life choice which had led to this exact moment. 

"--and then basically do you."

"I'm sorry what?"

"You didn't hear a word I just said did you?"

Beth's mouth purses, "If I admit to adopting a policy of selective hearing when you start scheming, how upset will you be?"

Annie considers this a moment before shrugging, "Remarkably okay with it actually. I think you should just keep doing what you're doing and when you get him alone again give him a bj."

Beth squints, "Your advice is to give him a blowjob?" The incredulity in her voice is palpable.

"Yup," the P pops as Annie says it and then plucks the tequila out of Beth's loosened grip, "I can see you picturing his dick from here and I am nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation anymore."

"I don't think _I'm_ drunk enough for this conversation," Beth scowls down at her hands, "I'm going to do it."

"Yeah. Git it--" Annie lifts the tequila bottle, "And maybe tell Ruby you're going to do it so you can give her the dirty deets. I don't actually wanna know how he doodles you."


	3. Pros (both kinds)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio makes a convincing argument, Beth is listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing this on my phone because the scene would not leave me alone. I have next to no idea where this is heading but y’all I am enjoying the ride.
> 
> Again, so very loosely edited.
> 
> And yes, the title of this chapter is in fact a play on words.

The problem is less that Beth has no idea when the hell Rio will show up next and more to do with the fact that when he does show up. Outside their regularly schedule ‘meetings’, he never announces himself.

That he seems to always catch her in the kitchen is looking like its shaping into a pattern.

“You keep this up, Imma start thinking you were lying about that suburban housewife thing.”

Beth does not drop the tray of cookies she’s just pulled out of the oven. It’s a near thing. She also doesn’t yelp or burn herself.

The tray gets settled with a clatter on the stove range and she pivots to scowl at him.

He’s in a tight, long sleeved henley today and it’s enough of a departure from his usual button downs that it throws Beth for a moment.

She had all that muscle pressed up against her not quite six days ago and she thinks it’s a damn shame she didn’t have longer to admire it.

Rio smirks beneath her scrutiny and ambles around the kitchen island to pluck a cookie from the sheet.

He bites into it with relish and smirks around chewing.

“I have four kids,” she says it as imperiously as she’s able, “They like cookies. I like cookies. Cookies happened,” one of these days she’s going to stop qualifying herself to people.

Rio finishes the cookie and backs her into the counter. It’s reminiscent of their earlier encounter, only Beth is wearing floral print chiffon and an apron. He settles a hand at her hip.

“I was thinkin’ about something you said earlier this week. About your homeboy lying t’you.” 

He smells like chocolate chip cookie and something faintly metallic. Beth’s beginning to associate it with guns. She can’t help it. Her knees shakes a little and she steadies her hands against the counter.

“I say a lot of things,” which is the dumbest of the things possibly to come out of her mouth. She’s a grown woman, she should be better at this.

Annie’s advice rears it’s obnoxious head in the back of her mind. She can feel a flush spreading its way down her throat.

Rio grins toothsomely, “You say he ain’t sick. So why not confront him about it,” the hand at her hip slides lower. Flirts with the scalloped hem of her dress. He catches the material between thumb and forefinger. Rubs his fingers back and forth as if admiring the softness of the fabric. 

“Because I have kids, and a double mortgage, and no one actually knows Dean was screwing his secretary when he was losing all our money. Not that it’s any if your business.” Beth doesn’t have to explain herself, and she very suddenly doesn’t like feeling trapped.

She pushes past him and puts space and a counter between them. It says something that Rio doesn’t stop her. 

“His secretary?” The disdainful way he says it says everything about his opinion, “Sloppy.”

“Oh like you’re any better,” she says it before she can think better of it and watches Rio’s mouth and shoulders go tight.

“Nah see, I’m a lotta things, but a cheater? Not one of’em. You find a good woman, you treat her well,” as he speaks he follows her orbit across the kitchen. Touching things as he goes. Unholstering the gun from his hip and settling it on the white marble of her counters. Like he plans to stay a while.

His keys and phone follow suit until he’s within reaching distance of her again. He stops short and Beth can feel that foot or so of space like a physical thing.

He says, “You find a good woman, you let her in. She controls you. Thats how it works.”

“And that’s why you’re single, hm?” Beth’s mouth curls down. 

“Maybe I just haven’t found her yet. My line a work-“ he lifts a hand and tips his head, “Not a lot of women wanna get involved in it. It ain’t the rodeo, you get caught you don’t walk away with a coupla bruises and injured pride.”

Beth knows what he’s saying. People involved in this sort of business either get arrested or get dead if they aren’t careful.

“So what? You screw around and call it a day?” 

Rio wets his lips, draws the lower between his teeth for a moment before he presses forward, “I think maybe you misunderstand me Beth.”

Beth clenches her jaw and shifts awkwardly, “I get the feeling you’re going to explain it to me,” her mouth is dry as the desert but her will to flee to the other side of the kitchen diminishes with every inch of space Rio removes from between them. 

He’s taking advantage of the short length of her dress again. His palms are hot against her thighs.

He says, “Smart women. The women guys like me get involved with? They go into this knowing the stakes. But they also know they’re gonna get taken care of.” He slides a hand up beneath the hem to palm the curve of her hip. Press his thumb just so into the crease of her where thigh and pelvis meet and smiles when Beth draws in a shaky breath.

“See, what I don’t think you’re hearing is how good I’d treat you,” he says, “How I could take care of you,” he presses his mouth to the fading bruise on her throat, “How good I could make you feel.” The hand at her hip curves around to cup her ass and drag her up into the jut of Rio’s pelvis.

Heat slinks down Beth’s spine like a predator. Her hands spasm against the counter top.

“If this is the sales pitch, you have my attention,” her voice betrays her. Does nothing to hide the naked want curling up beneath her sternum. The way her pulse is tapping out a drumbeat against her skin.

Rio hums, low in his throat and kisses her. 

It definitely feels like victory. 

And then, of course, the kitchen door slams open.


	4. Magic Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like a magic trick. One minute Rio has his hands shoved up beneath her dress and the next he's halfway across the room, his gun and keys and phone in hand and he's heading past Annie out the kitchen door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I don't even need to say that this has seen basically no editing. So you know, if you see anything lemme know.
> 
> Having seen tonight's episode I can say with total authority that there is no way in hell the IRS wouldn't notice the amount of money these women are moving. Not without some serious sandbagging on their end. I am not ashamed to admit I spent fifteen minutes discussing how one might work around this. 
> 
> I know next to nothing about money laundering or making shell corporations, so take the logic of this with a grain of salt.

"Beth we need to talk-- oh my God!" Annie back pedals with enough violence that she bangs into the counter and knocks the garbage can over, "What is wrong with you! People eat on that counter Jesus!"

It's like a magic trick. One minute Rio has his hands shoved up beneath her dress and the next he's halfway across the room, his gun and keys and phone in hand and he's heading past Annie out the kitchen door.

"We'll continue this conversation later.

It happens with such rapidity that Beth is still reeling a little, blinking owlishly at Annie whose staring poleaxed out the still open door.

Beth reaches across the counter and grabs a measuring cup to throw at Annie's head. 

"Jesus! I'm sorry Beth okay I didn't. Were you two really-" she gestures, forefingers of each hand touching while she waggles her eyebrows.

"No Annie. He was offering me some new business advice. _Yes_! God. What did it look like we were doing?!"

Annie bites her lips between her teeth to slow the god awful grin trying to take over her face, "Well it looked like he was about to give you his boner honestly. Gangbanger friend can book it."

She reaches over to shut the door, "Now. We have to talk about this secret shopper thing and how to take it legit because the amount we're moving has me kind of freaked out. That fancy ass custody lawyer wants to know how I'm paying for her when I'm broke as a fucking joke."

Beth draws in a steadying breath, "I've already handled it."

Annie's quiet, "Uh... j'excuse?"

Beth grins shakily and pushes away from the counter, "Come to the office, you have some paperwork to fill out."

"I am really concerned right now, I just want to lodge this as a formal review."

Beth rolls her eyes and snags a cookie on her way out of the kitchen, she doesn't bother turning to see if Annie follows. She knows her sister will.

She's taken over the home office, it used to be her craft room, but she's packed most of her crafting things away back into the built-ins along one wall. There are a dozen files stacked neatly beside her tablet.

"Here." She hands Annie one of the folders, "Inside is all the relevant information, we are employees of a corporation based out of Venezuela. That's how we get the cash for the secret shopping. They pay us to go into stores in the tri-city area, and we in turn return customer service reviews, both on the purchasing end and the return end."

Annie is flicking through the papers in the folder and then glances up, "Holy shit. Who are you and what have you does with my sister? Is this legit?"

Beth nods, "Yup," the P pops as she says it, "The business is registered, there are email addresses, and the 10-99s are issued from their corporation and everything. When our shoppers return with their money and surveys, the surveys get scanned in and faxed to them. Voila, paper trail and plausible deniability. Since we're registered as private contractors through a foreign agency and we're filing our taxes, and--" Beth held up a hand, "Because it's through a private corporation, that's why we get so much more money than other typical shoppers."

Annie is already filling out the 10-99, "You are an evil genius and I'm proud to call you sister."

Beth leans against the desk and says, "I might have been freaking out over how to explain the money thing."

Annie pauses, "Beth. What did you do?"

Her sister coughs, "I might have dumped three bags of money all over Dean and told him to stop acting like I was some dumb suburban housewife."

Annie frowns, "You know you're not dumb right? Do I need to have a shovel talk with Dean?"

"No. It's fine. I've taken care of it." Beth is aware that just a few weeks ago she said something similar to Rio.

She feels a flush spread down her throat, "Oh my god. You walked in on Rio and I--"

Annie starts cackling, "Oh man, I was waiting to come back to this. I notice you didn't take my advice by the way."

Beth considers how normal people probably don't conduct conversations in such a meandering fashion, "I was working up to it."

"Or he was working up to ripping your panties off your body with his bare hands."

"Oh my god Annie."

"Okay but seriously, that looked more serious than boning."

Beth groaned, "Can we shelve this discussion for a time when I'm not sexually frustrated and completely mortified."

Annie dropped the folder on the desk, "You should call him. or.. text him. Page him? Do we still use pagers? Point is, get him back here. Bone him. A lot, then get back to me on your decision."

Beth finally looks up and frowns, "What about Dean?"

Annie heaves a sigh, "Listen, are you planning on salvaging your marriage? Because if not, then I'd say screw the cheating bastard."

Beth frowns and Annie keeps going, "Beth, _do_ you want to save your marriage?"

Beth shakes her head, "No, but I'm not sure falling into bed with Rio is such a great idea either."

Annie shrugs, "On a scale of the bad ideas we've had recently I'm pretty sure getting your freak on doesn't even rate," Annie pauses for a moment, "You know. Sadie being gone is terrible for me. I'm way to invested in your sex life and not invested enough in my own, and on that spectacularly depressing note. _I_ and going to skedaddle and drown my sorrows in a pint of Cherry Garcia." She threw up a peace sign, "Deuces dude."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this was less with the smut and more plot. I'm not sure how that keeps happening, but there'll probably be another update tonight. Yup. I can't seem to stop writing this.


	5. Slow like honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio doesn’t bother moving away, just shifts to accommodate her shifting and forces himself between her knees, uncaring of the slim fitted skirt pulling taut around her thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead. So much smut. I really enjoy writing dialogue for Rio? Y’all. Written on my phone. Zero editing happened.

The more Beth thinks about it, the more she’s certain that Rio’s appeal is that he’s fleeting. Oh to be sure he talked a big game about treating her well, but Dean had done much the same and where had that gotten her?

Four kids, a double mortgage, and a husband who reminded her of a droopy birthday candle.

She wants to know when she stopped loving Dean. When smiling at him and making him dinner, and exchanging I love you’s had become perfunctory.

She misses feeling desirable, hell she misses feeling powerful and in control. One out of three aren’t good enough stakes for her to risk her self respect. No matter how Annie encourages her to pursue this. Thing.

She wants to go back in time and keep the pearl necklace. She wants to forget what his hands felt like on her skin. His mouth on hers. The more she thinks about wanting to forget, the more she imagines what it could be like though.

This is really the only reason she finds herself sat in a seedy bar at ten o’clock on a Friday night. Ruby keeps texting her and if she responds to any of the increasingly freaked out messages, then Beth is going to talk herself out of this. If she’s going to have irresponsible sex with a stranger, it’s going to be on her terms.

At least this way she doesn’t have to grapple with the potential ramifications of sleeping with a man who casually pays her large sums of money for breaking the law.

She’s let Ruby and Annie head up the last two drops. Avoidance, likely another contributing factor in Ruby’s current attempts at circumventing Beth’s bid for an orgasm not assisted by batteries and her own imagination.

At least the vodka soda is good, good booze is a rarity in bars this seedy. The floor is sticky, and she doesn’t doubt someone will come onto her. She isn’t so far into soccer mom-dom that she’s sexually repulsive.

“You know, this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.”

 _Bingo_. Tonight’s winner is a six foot brickhouse of a man with a tattooed skull and a handlebar mustache.

Beth plasters on a charming smile and says, “And what kind of scene might that be?”

Beth suspects already that this is a terrible decision, but she’s committed.

Mustache leers, “Well I was thinking the backseat of my car, pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone.”

Beth’s mouth is open to answer, something scathing on the tip of her tongue when a hand insinuates itself around her waist and a too familiar voice speaks near her ear—

“Lucky for her she isn’t alone.” 

The possessive threat underlying his words is perhaps nowhere near as threatening as Beth imagines Rio looks at this moment.

And seriously, does the guy have a tracker on her?

Mustache raises his hands, “Sorry man. Didn’t figure she was spoken for.” Mustache is sidling away with a last lingering glance over his shoulder and Beth is swiveling on the barstool to scowl at Rio.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rio doesn’t bother moving away, just shifts to accommodate her movement and forces himself between her knees, uncaring of the slim fitted skirt pulling taut around her thighs.

“Well, currently I’m at a bar meeting an associate. But later you and I are going to have a conversation about your decision making and how that led you to be here.” He waves the bartender over with middle and forefinger, “Bring us drinks to the backroom,” and then he’s pulling Beth off the barstool and guiding her alongside him through to the back of the bar.

“This is not what I signed up for, now if you don’t mind I have—“

“I don’t generally appreciate having my employees avoid me, it hurts my feelings Beth,” and there’s a cool levity to his voice, “Later. Now keep your mouth shut while I handle this.”

He settles in an elegant sprawl behind a desk and gestures for Beth to sit. 

She frowns and defiantly settles for leaning a hip against the corner and hooking one knee over the other. She’s momentarily glad she opted for the stilettos and not the more sensible pumps. 

The pumps would’ve looked out of place.

What follows is a bizarre twenty-seven minutes of rapid-fire Spanish that Beth has no hope of being able to follow. Her phone has stopped buzzing at least but she daren’t unlock the damn thing to figure out why.

The men Rio is meeting with all look significantly more frightening than Rio had that first time he’d shown up in her house.

Once the door shuts after his company leaves Rio is out of the chair and prowling around the small room.

Beth decides he reminds her a bit of the tigers at the Detroit Zoo. Before Emma was born, she and Dean had taken the kids, and Rio moves with the same economy of grace.

The same barely contained threat.

He stops midstride and alters his trajectory, legs carrying him back to the desk where Beth is settled uncomfortably. 

She says, “Am I allowed to speak now or do I need your permission for that?” It’s bitten out and she’s a little surprised at the venom lacing her teeth.

Rio’s eyes narrow. A tightening at the corners that belies his mental state, his mouth puckers in thought, “You don’t need permission to do anything you don’t want to.”

Beth snorts, “Really? Sure didn’t seem like it a half hour ago.”

“You really tryna tell me you wanted that skinhead gettin’ up close and personal with you,” he seems baffled and irate. 

Beth says, “I wanted the option to decide for myself.”

Rio comes closer. Pauses before he puts hands on her like he’s only just finally realizing that invading her space might be unwelcome.

That split second of indecision does more for Beth than any of his talk had.

He says, “You want me to stop then.”

It isn’t a question, but she understands what he means anyway. His double talk, the heaviness of his gaze. This shady as hell back room.

She shifts on the desk. Distributes her weight more comfortably along the sticky wood and uncrosses her knees, “I don’t know what I want.”

Rio steps between her knees, “Ask me.”

Anyone else would wonder at his meaning, “Didn’t you already give me the sales pitch?” She can’t help the snide jab.

He settles his hands on the wood at either side of her hips, “Ask me.”

Something like steel makes its way down her spine, “What do you want from me?”

Rio smirks, “Everything. Ask me.”

Her hands shake but she lifts them to stroke along the collar of his shirt. Blue is a good color on him. This close she can tell the buttons have some kind of pearl inlay. Expensive. 

“What do I get in return?”

His hands skate from the desk up her sides, stop midway to cup the small of her back. 

He says, “Everything.”

A pause, “Go on. Ask me.”

Beth swallows and curls her fingers in his shirt collar, “Kiss me.”

It isn’t a question, but he drags her forward to take her mouth in a kiss. It’s a slick slide of their lips and the sharp remark of his teeth. 

It makes Beth a little dizzy and she gasps against him, lets the slide of his tongue slip between her teeth, tease against her own.

If she’s ever given serious thought to how he might kiss her. Beyond that brief one in her kitchen weeks ago, she might have said he’d take. Lay claim. Leave bruises behind.

Rather instead his kiss lingers, he sups from her mouth like he’s taking Communion. His fingers find the tuck of her shirt and ruck it up so his thumbs can press against her floating ribs. Press into warm skin and haul her impossibly closer.

She bites at his mouth and hooks one hand around the nape of his neck, she makes a frustrated noise when he laughs against her lips and draws slowly away.

“Ask me,” he says it maddeningly. Like he’s gunning for something. Like he knows already he’s going to get what he wants and he’s just waiting for her to catch up. To catch on. To meet him word for word, step for step.

She says, “You gonna keep me?”

He bites her throat, “If you’ll let me.”

She moans, can feel the way her body tightens involuntarily around nothing.

He says, “You gonna stop avoiding me?”

And Beth laughs, “Not if this is the result.”

He bites her throat again, sucks a blood bruise to the surface of her neck. Milk pale skin turning ardent, “I knew you were gonna be trouble the first time you called me stupid.”

Beth tries to shrug, finds she can’t, finds herself being tipped backward over the desk and Rio looming above her. Pushing her skirt up past her thighs.

He mutters, “Gonna kill me,” and insinuates a hand between her legs. Nimble fingers pushing aside the fabric of her underwear to stroke cleverly down her slit. She’s hot and slick and the sound she makes at that first touch is obscenely loud.

He makes a noise, caught between pleased and prideful and kisses her again. Presses a finger up into her body and knuckles her clit with his thumb. 

She bites his lip hard enough she tastes copper and his reaction is exemplary. He hauls her ass over the edge of the desk and crooks a second finger up into her body. Strokes up and inward and swallows the shout she gives in response. 

One of her heels clatters to the floor and her shoulders hit the desk as her elbows give out behind her. “Fuck.” Her back bows, Rio drops to his knees and makes short work of yanking her panties down and off her legs. 

Wherever they wind up Beth ignores in favor of cutting off a shout when Rio shoulders his way between her thighs. His thumbs spread her open, it’s an abstract sensation followed immediately by his lips and tongue curling over her clit. 

Her stomach clenches and she lurches gracelessly upward, the only steadying presence are his hands and upper body. He presses the flat blade of his teeth to her clit and that’s it. 

She’s pretty sure whatever sound she makes can be heard by the entire bar. Her orgasm strikes in a single continuous wave. Rio presses two fingers back into her body and mumbles something like, “—give you somethin’ t’come around.” Presses a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh and waits out her shaking.

There’s a water stain in the ceiling tile in the corner, Rio draws her up and tucks her against his chest and says, “Next time I’m fucking you somewhere I can take my time and take you apart. Go home Beth. I’ll see you.” He kisses her and calls for someone to walk her out to her car. 

It isn’t until she’s most of the way home that she registers the newest text on her phone. 

It’s from Rio. 

It’s a photo attachment of her panties.

“Fuck.”


	6. Riding in Cars with Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's flying by the seat of her pants and it shouldn't be so exhilarating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely edited. I am not entirely sure if I like where this chapter ended. It's much more serious than the previous chapters but I really wanted to bring in the whole Dean thing, and address the whatever it is happening between Beth and Rio.

Beth, if pressed, would admit that she has approximately no idea what it is that she's doing. The morning after her encounter with Rio in the bar, she's staring at her reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Half admiring the bruises on her throat and shoulders and wondering when hickeys became a thing a mom of four found acceptable.

She's flying by the seat of her pants and it shouldn't be so exhilarating. 

She pads out of the bathroom into the adjoining bedroom to find Dean has settled on the bench at the foot of the bed.

Beth remembers a time when seeing him in their room filled her with a buzzing kind of happiness. Now the downturned corner of his mouth, the furrow between his brows. The disappointed slope of his shoulders, just makes her want to do something rash.

He averts his gaze when he realizes she's wearing only a towel, but she doesn't miss the momentary linger on the bite marks bruising her skin.

She settles for a stretchy blue knit sweater dress with a high neck. 

The silence in the room is overwhelming but Beth has gotten good at not talking to fill the quiet.

Eventually Dean says, "What happened to you Beth?" If she were anything less than she is, she might be angry at how accusatory he sounds, "You stole a car, you did probably illegal things. _More_ illegal than taking one of my cars. You... there's a fuckload of money in paper bags downstairs in your office. What _happened_ to you. Who _are_ you?"

Beth settles on the stool in front of her vanity. It's a little out of place amidst the other bedroom furnishings. An old Hollywood waterfall vanity that once belonged to her great grandmother.

She starts patting her hair dry and says, "I had to wake up," when she meets his gaze in the mirror, the disappointment she finds there is tangible.

She scowls, "I think a better question would be, when did you decide cheating on me and losing all our money was the decision dujour. When did you decide I didn't deserve to be included in our finances conversation. When did you decide I wasn't enough for you anymore?"

He flinches with every word and says angrily, "Cheating and losing our money isn't the same as breaking the law Beth."

She swivels on the stool, "I'm not breaking the law," she wants to know when she got so good at lying, "I have the paperwork downstairs in the office to prove it. I'm legitimately employed." For all qualifications of legitimate, "So answer the question Dean. When did I stop being enough."

"You didn't Beth! That's why I'm trying to fix us. To fix our marriage."

"Did you ever consider maybe I don't want to?"

"What do you mean? Don't you miss us? What we were?"

Her eyes narrow, it isn't his fault. Not entirely. Complacency can happen in any marriage. He's hurting, but she doesn't think he really loves her.

"The people we were when you tripped and landed dick first in your child bride secretary you mean?"

He flinches back again and Beth can't bring herself to feel bad about it.

"That isn't fair--"

"Really? Unfair to whom exactly?"

"We were in a bad place. We hadn't been having sex and you were so busy--"

"So it's _my fault_?" Her voice goes shrill and it's all she can do to not throw something at him. The only thing conveniently to hand other than her hairbrush, is the cut crystal perfume atomizer.

She cares more about the atomizer than she does about her husband in this moment. It's devastating how much it isn't.

Something in her chest unfurls. Rage and grief and the overwhelming sense that she's never really been good enough for the people around her. Never smart enough, pretty enough.

"That isn't what I mean, I just meant,"

"You just mean that you saw a young, pretty woman half your age and decided if she was going to put out, you couldn't be blamed because your wife wasn't giving it to you at home?" Her head tilts, "Because that's exactly what it sounds like."

"We used to be so good together Beth! I just want to know what happened to us, and like you have any room to talk. You're not innocent here either you know!"

She stood up, "You decided you didn't want to be in love with me anymore. Not until it was going to inconvenience you." Her hands are shaking, "The only problem with _that_ , is that it gave me time to realize I haven't been in love with you since Emma was born and the absolute _worst_ thing is that if you'd been a decent human being and said something. Maybe, just maybe we could have saved our marriage."

And then she decides, in for a penny, and goes for his throat, "Maybe then you wouldn't have had to lie about having cancer to get back into the house. But that shouldn't surprise me either, it's pretty typical of you to go for the sympathy card when you know you've done wrong."

There's a pause for her to draw breath before, "And just so we're really clear, I've had sex _once_. For all qualifications of fucking, and just for clarification we haven't been _together_ in any sense of the word for almost four years."

The color drains from Dean's face. It's clear he never anticipated her calling him out like this. Or maybe he simply didn't think she'd find out he'd been lying.

"The only reason I'm not kicking you out is because the kids like having you back home, but this--" she gestures between them, "Isn't salvageable, you made plenty sure of that." 

Beth isn't proud of the way she storms out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. Hands shaking, mouth tight with fury. She isn't proud of the way she wants to throw and break things. Wrap her hands around something just to see it hurt.

She told Annie after the Shop City fiasco that that man's wife had known the state of her marriage. But Beth's never really known how to articulate the depth and breadth of insecurity that lodges itself in a person's ribcage when the person they've vowed to love and honor and remain faithful too, has sought sanctuary in different pastures.

Rio is leaning against the kitchen counter inspecting his phone. When he glances up, his eyes are dark and his mouth is serious, "Get your shoes, let's go for a ride, yeah?"

Upstairs she can hear Dean moving around, calling after her. She grabs a pair of slip ons and yanks up her purse and phone then follows Rio out of the kitchen door and down to the street.

He's driving a nondescript black sedan. The windows are heavily tinted.

She slides into the car while he gets the engine started, and Beth glances over in time to see Dean open the kitchen door. Whether he sees her in the car or not, she's too angry to determine.

But the car is quiet, and the seats are lush and comfortable and without a second thought she sends a text to Annie to pick her kids up from school, that she's fine, and then she puts her phone on silent and do not disturb and shoves it and her purse into the backseat.

Her hands are still shaking.

They drive in silence for a long time. She doesn't bother to look to determine how long, only that the vibrations from the engine, and the warmth from the heater are doing wonders for easing the tension between her shoulder blades.

It's one thing to know your marriage is over. It's another to torpedo it like she just did. She hates how she feels guilty about it. Hates that she's second guessing every decision she's made with regard to Dean in the last several weeks.

More than that, she hates how she's more angry at how she isn't upset over the dissolution of her relationship. The prospect of life without him should be daunting. Frightening. 

Beth has never been good without Dean, but she's beginning to suspect that that was never the case.

Rio reaches across the center console and curls his fingers over her knee. He never takes his eyes off the road, and there's something questioning about the touch. Beth let's her gaze slide over Rio's profile.

Finally she says, "What were you doing in my kitchen?"

His fingers tighten over her knee before he moves his hand to change gears on the gearshift. He says, "I heard about your business."

A pause and he slants a grin her direction as they pull up to a stoplight, "Smart, figuring out a work around."

Beth feels her throat go tight, a hundred vitriolic remarks on the tip of her tongue. The first being the demand he justify questioning her intelligence. 

Rio continues, "Venezuela was a smart choice, you know I got family there," he grins, "I spent time there as a kid," if nothing else, that gives Beth pause.

Every piece of information she gleans from Rio is like a balm to a burn, "I picked it because all evidence indicated they don't appreciate US interference in government affairs."

Rio chokes on a snort, "Yeah... somethin' like that." He takes a left at Vine and Beth realizes they're headed toward Lake Huron. 

"So now you got this all figured out, what's your next move," it still isn't a question, Beth wants to pinch him. 

She says, "Well I'd like to not get arrested. Or shot. This isn't a permanent career move. You know that right?" She narrows her eyes at him, watches the way his mouth relaxes but his jaw goes tight. 

"Never is Beth. So what's your next move."

If she didn't know any better she'd say he needed reassurance. But that's patently ridiculous. He has to know he holds all the power in this situation. They might have had sex, but it's always been on his terms.

Hasn't it?

She sucks her lower lips between her teeth and sits in silence for several miles, "I don't know," she says it quietly, and glances out the window, "I don't even know what _we're_ doing. How am I supposed to know what my next move is? I have kids. My marriage is falling apart. It isn't like I've ever been with anyone other than Dean."

Rio snorts.

"You being the glaring exception,"

His mouth curves up smugly.

"Why were you in my kitchen Rio?"

"Told you, I heard about your business," he shifts gears again and hangs a right. 

Beth sighs heavily, "And that necessitated taking me for a ride?"

"Nah. I heard you and the Mister shouting and figured it was in everyone's best interests if you weren't around to get him dead," he turned a cheeky grin on her, he looks terribly young in that moment.

It makes Beth's stomach lurch. She doesn't even know how old he is. What's his favorite color? Food? 

"I wouldn't kill him."

"Didn't you tie a dude up and leave him in your treehouse for like a week? Cold." He sounds impressed though, Beth wants to know how the hell he could possibly know that.

Beth bites back a groan of frustration. She's never met a person as good at obfuscating as Rio is. Is there a class you take to get this good at answering straightforwardly.

"You're really bad at giving me straight answers," she bites out, and some of her earlier anger is returning.

Rio says, "Where do you want to go."

Beth balks, stares at him, considers what he said and decides he isn't talking about the car ride.

"With the business?"

He slants a look at her, "If I wanted to talk business we wouldn't be driving around alone."

"I'm still not sure why we're driving around at all. You have a destination in mind?"

His grin is boyish, he doesn't answer.

It's fucking maddening. 

They conduct the rest of the drive in silence and what feels like forever but is probably only around forty minutes, they pull into a private airstrip.

Beth glances out the window and says, "Well this was not what I was expecting."

He cuts the engine and swivels in the seat to watch her. She plucks at the hem of her dress awkwardly endeavors to wait him out.

He says, "You know. I've met a lot of women, ain't none of'em like you though."

"So you don't get a lot of suburban moms cleaning money for you then?"

He laughs, "Nah, that's more common than you're thinkin'. But I don't fuck any of'em."

"So I'm special is what you're saying?"

He tilts his head, "If you have to ask then you already know the answer to that."

Beth is reminded of a conversation they had what feels like ages ago. About the women who get involved with men like him and she swallows and says, "If I said I wanted this?"

"I'd say you need to pay better attention."

Beth snorts, "My life feels like a rollercoaster. This morning I was shouting at my husband. Last night I had sex with a man, not my husband, in the back room of a seedy bar--"

"I own that bar. Don't bad mouth it."

Beth rolls her eyes, "Of course you own that bar. Why am I even surprised at this point."

He shrugs, "Gotta have a few legitimate businesses," he says and then, "We don't have to do this. You say the word and I stop. I'm a bad guy, but I'm ain't that guy." He tips his chin up, as if to say _know what I mean_.

Funnily enough, Beth does. She tips forward across the console and kisses him. 

He gets his hands in her hair almost immediately and licks into her mouth, sucks at her lower lip and tugs sharply on her hair. When they draw apart Beth doesn't resist turning her face toward his wrist. Presses her mouth to his pulse.

She says, "So. We're doing this."

Rio smirks and meets her across the console, "We been doin' this since day one."

He says it like he can't quite believe Beth is being this slow on the uptake, like maybe Beth is second guessing herself.

He isn't wrong entirely. She still has a million things to deal with, the last thing she needs to be considering is entering into any kind of relationship with a man she knows next to nothing about. A man who for all intents and purposes, threatened to kill her within twenty-four hours of first meeting her.

She's still married. Her kids have no idea what's happening between their parents beyond that they're in a fight.

Beth isn't even certain what she plans on doing. She's just making things up as she goes and it seems to have worked itself out in her favor thus far. 

If one ignores the FBI sniffing around her, the hundreds of thousands of dollars in fake money in her kitchen cabinets.

The husband.

She keeps coming back to Dean, Rio presses his mouth distractingly to her throat and says, "Stop thinking about your husband. You're with me, let me take care of you."

The sheer immensity of the situation does not strike anxiety into her heart like it should. The absurdity of what she's letting herself do. The irresponsibility of it.

"I thought you already were."

Her hands aren't shaking anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we finally get Ruby on screen! Agent Turner comes around and causes tension. Beth and Rio rendezvous and I don't mean the talking kind.


End file.
